


I will pack my bags just to stay in the corner of your heart

by illuminatedcities



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminatedcities/pseuds/illuminatedcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold doesn't make a conscious decision. He just knows that he <i>wants</i> and that John <i>needs</i>.</p>
<p>In which John convinces Harold to relax a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will pack my bags just to stay in the corner of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to nightwolf for listening to me when I rant about writing and headcanons, and to Sky for supportive email squeeing. <3
> 
> Title from "Corner of your heart" by Ingrid Michaelson.

Harold sighs, trying to push his pillow into a more comfortable position.

The crash bed in the back of the subway station has much less back support than he'd like, but John had been very insistent that he should get some rest - and since John had looked about dead on his feet, Harold had only put up the barest bit of resistance, not even a snide remark when John had all but dragged him to the bed, mumbling about needing his brain in good shape.

Harold had sighed and put away his glasses safely next to the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

John stood there, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"I should really -"

"John," Harold had said with an annoyed huff. "Do you really think I will let you bully me into resting and let you go out there again severely sleep deprived?"

John swallowed, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Why, Harold," he had drawled, "I didn't know you felt that way."

Harold had rolled his eyes at John's slightly fuzzy form, taken off his jacket and vest, slipped out of his pants and gotten under the covers.

"Just go to sleep, Mr. Reese."

Now, barely two hours later, Harold is awake again, the metal frame creaking under their combined weight.

John went out like a light the second his head hit the pillow, and is now a warm weight next to Harold's turned back, breathing calmly.

There is a rustling of the sheets, and for a moment, Harold thinks that John must be turning around, when in fact he is shifting closer, pressing up against Harold's back in his sleep.

Harold feels the solid warmth of John's chest through the fabric of his shirt, John's breath tickling his neck.

It's not... unpleasant, and with a mortified little noise Harold realizes that his own body is reacting to the physical closeness of another human being in a rather... inappropriate way.

Then John's hips shift, too, and Harold realizes that he's not the only one sporting an erection: John's is currently pushing against Harold's backside.

Harold's breathing speeds up.

He has been busy trying to keep them out of Samaritan's range, keeping them alive and well, so food and sleep aren't the only physical needs he has been neglecting recently.

It's not that Harold has a particular _desire_ to sleep with other people. He enjoys it, even more so when there's an emotional connection involved, but he can take care of his own needs just fine.

The occasional, quick jerk-off session between one project and another, a no-nonsense orgasm the rare times he oversleeps and his back and hip are acting up, softening the sharp pain around the edges.

He hasn't masturbated in months, he realizes, distantly, and the way John's warm, solid body is pressing against his is giving Harold serious ideas.

John's breath hitches a little in his sleep, his hips moving lazily, a gentle thrusting motion.

Harold can feel his own blood pounding in his ears.

He reaches down to touch himself experimentally, shocked by the needy sound that comes out of his own mouth when he strokes his erection.

John sighs and moves closer, seeking warmth.

Harold turns around carefully so that he can see John better.

John is gorgeous as usual:

Long, black lashes a stark contrast against his skin, the strong muscles of his upper body tensing and relaxing with his movements, a tantalizing trail of dark hair leading down from his navel and disappearing under the elastic of his boxers.

John is visibly hard in his underwear, rutting up against Harold with breathless, little sighs.

Harold doesn't make a conscious decision. He just knows that he _wants_ and that John _needs_.

Harold pulls down John's boxers and takes his cock out, giving him a firm stroke, his skin hot under Harold's hands.

John's whole body jerks into the motion, his mouth falling open against Harold's throat, panting.

Harold moves even closer, needing to be touched almost as much as he wants to get John off.

Harold aligns their cocks and jerks them both, his hands steady despite his feverish arousal.

John whimpers against his skin, blinking blearily.

"John?" Harold asks quietly, running his thumb over John's glans with the next stroke.

John shudders, opening his eyes, his gaze unfocused.

"Harold,", he says, and then Harold gets a better grip and works them harder, and all John manages to say is "Hnnghh."

"You told me that I need to unwind, Mr. Reese," Harold says, pressing his mouth to the skin of John's collarbones, licking at his nipples.

"Oh, god," John groans, pushing into Harold's grip, hands gripping Harold's arms, holding on. "Yes, like that, I need -" John manages before he groans again, low and deep.

“I can't believe you wanted this and didn't _say so_ ,” Harold says, sounding rather annoyed.

"There's lube in my bag," John says through clenched teeth, his brain apparently catching up with him.

Harold isn't happy to let go of him, but John turns around quickly enough and rummages around in his bag next to the bed, producing a bottle and throwing it to Harold.

Harold catches it and starts warming up a fair amount in his hands.

It's even better with his hand slicked up, and John responds beautifully, flushed and desperate, cursing and mumbling Harold's name.

Harold slides his hand lower between John's legs and John spreads them willingly, turning onto his back without Harold even having to ask.

"You need it bad, don't you, John," Harold says into his ear, low and intimate, kneeling between his legs for better access, the bed shifting and creaking beneath them.

John's flushed cock leaks precome onto his stomach.

Harold pushes one finger in, working John open in patient circles before adding a second one, and John's voice keeps rising in pitch, begging him, until Harold pushes in further, aiming for John's prostate.

John makes a guttural noise of pleasure, throwing his head back, and Harold keeps fucking him with two fingers while his other hand jerks John's cock in time with his motions.

"All you had to do was ask, John," Harold says thoughtfully, and John whines again at that, looking completely overwhelmed.

Harold finds the spot that makes John nearly arch off the bed and massages it thoroughly, and it doesn't take long until John cries out and comes all over himself, panting wildly.

Harold bends down to lick at the mess on his stomach, taste him, and then John's hands are on his shoulders and he's pulled up and kissed thoroughly.

John reaches down to Harold's throbbing erection and closes a hand around it, and, oh - Harold had forgotten how good it feels to just relax into the pleasure, let someone else take care of you.

He buries his face against John's shoulder, thrusting in the limited range that his hips will allow, and John does the rest:

Clever fingers coaxing Harold's orgasm out of him embarrassingly quick, making him spill warmly between them with a small gasp.

After, they lie there panting, in a sweaty, sticky heap.

John kisses Harold's temple, the corner of his mouth.

"You should listen to me more often," John says.

Harold raises an eyebrow.

"Or I could bend you over my work desk later, for being insufferably smug."

John's whole body shudders.

"That works, too," he says, and kisses Harold's lips.

 

– fin


End file.
